To Disembark
by OCP
Summary: His sweating hands are still on the railing when Ryan places his down, and neither boys move their touching fingers away. For a second, nothing is wrong. And he didn't even have to jump. SLASH RYANTROY BOYxBOY get it?


**Title: **To Disembark  
**By: **OCP.  
**Rating: **Mature. "R."  
**Pairing: **Just a tad Troy/Gabriella. Mostly Ryan/Troy though.  
**Warning: **Slash. Some sexual situations. Language. Oops. I love corrupting Disney.  
**Summary:** His sweating hands are still on the railing when Ryan places his down, and neither boys move their touching fingers away. For a second, nothing is wrong. And he didn't even have to jump.  
**Disclaimer: **I don't own _High School Musical,_ any of the characters both fictional and real life. This is just a figment of my dirty imagination. But wouldn't be great if that 2008 sequel was like this?  
**Notes: **There isn't enough HSM slash, so I felt like writing it. Read and review! This is just a long one-shot. And also, don't like slash? Then just don't fucking read it. Your flames will make me laugh at your closet case...why else would you be reading guy-on-guy stuff? And if you're a girl... well, you're not fooling anyone. ;)

* * *

Troy Bolton has everything. In school, he has the grades. In sports, he has the skill. In the future, he has great potential, already being offered scholarships from left and right. His voice is amazing, and he starred in the last school musical. And he has a gorgeous, smart girlfriend. From everyone else's point of view, he is a lucky bastard who has everything. 

But there's one thing he doesn't have.

Actually, two. And he hates himself for both.

More than anything, he wishes he could change himself. Without hesitation, he would give up his basketball career, his grades, his entire _life _just to be society's definition of normal. Though he knows in his heart it's not the worst thing that could happen, it's close to it and the world would be ending as he knows it if anyone found out.

So he keeps lying. He goes to school to maintain the grades. He practices every day after school his shots and baskets. He keeps up his appearances for those watchful schools. He sings in the shower, in front of the computer, in auditions. And he dates his girlfriend Gabriella, being the best significant other he can be.

The outside sees Troy Bolton, athlete-singer-student extraordinaire, but when he looks in the mirror, he sees a fraud who has everything meaningless and nothing important.

* * *

When Gabriella starts hinting about sex, Troy is so completely freaked out that he goes to the nearby park at night, sits on the ledge of a bridge over a fairly deep lake, and contemplates jumping. Everything is fucked up, and he thinks everything would just be easier for him and everyone else if he drowned or froze. 

He sits there for who knows how long, feet dangling and his hands sweating. His mind is a mess, and even the angel and devil that are supposed to be on his shoulders don't bother. Troy is alone.

It's so silent and lonely that he doesn't even realize someone has intruded until a soft, "Troy?" He turns around and there's Ryan Evans, a black hat pulled almost completely over his eyes. The blond looks tired, lost, and as lonesome as Troy feels.

Glancing back out over the lake, he stays completely quiet. He's not trying to be rude, but he simply can't deal with anything right now. Luckily, Ryan seems to understand and he walks over, but all he does is stand there looking at the water, too.

His sweating hands are still on the railing when Ryan places his down, and neither boys move their touching fingers away.

For a second, nothing is fucked. And he didn't even have to jump.

* * *

The prom arrives months later. He doesn't ask Gabriella because he doesn't need to; it's a given they're going together. He gets her a corsage, he hires a limo, and he rents a tux. His parents and he go to her house, and flashes go off in his face. Both sets of parents comment how adorable they look together. His arm is around her waist, holding her close. She's happy. He's not. But they can't tell. 

The gym is dark when they walk in together, into a group of so-called friends and fawning peers. Sharpay runs up and hugs Gabriella because after all, they're just so close. She turns and hugs him too, and while he's sure Gabriella doesn't notice, he feels Sharpay press her breasts against his chest and her hand brushes over his ass when she's pulling away.

He hates Sharpay.

Chad is there with Taylor, both of them making googly eyes at one another, hardly paying attention to the new arrival. When their eyes meet, Chad discreetly points to their dates and mouths 'score.' Troy forces himself to grin and nod along, even if he feels nauseated doing so.

The latest popular song comes on, and Gabriella pulls him to the center of the floor to dance. She rubs up against him, practically grinding, while he stands there awkwardly, embarrassed for her. It looks ridiculous and when he tries to move, strained and uncomfortable.

It's like that for almost an hour. Various people come up to talk with them, and they dance a little. Everyone tells him what a sucky dancer he is, and he would beg to differ, but tonight he can't prove himself.

As soon as a slow song comes on, ignoring Gabriella's complaints, he excuses himself to the bathroom and practically runs to the furthest one away from the gym. Suddenly his suit is too stuffy and his skin is too tight. He slows down to a walk at the boy's bathroom, and when he enters, he sees something that stops his already spastic breath.

Ryan is pinned up against the wall, his hands running through some other unknown's hair. But the hair belongs to another _boy_, a tall brunette with a nice build who, upon further inspection, looks like Troy. Clearly unaware of their intruder, the two lock lips, almost violently, rubbing up against each other desperately. When the other boy's hand starts undoing Ryan's fly, Troy can't watch anymore and he walks silently out of the bathroom.

He goes back to the dance and tells everybody what he's seen.

He doesn't hate Ryan, but he wishes he did.

* * *

That Monday brings a lot of things. He and Chad walk into school, and when they go by Ryan's locker, the word fag is written on it. Troy stops to stare like everyone else, and he sincerely hopes his face doesn't show the guilt he feels. 

Sitting in first hour before class has started, the one he has with Ryan, he starts talking and he can't stop. He tells people about find Ryan and his boyfriend going at it in the bathroom, about the ugly twink jerking Ryan off, and he even goes so far as to lie and say they were about to have sex before Troy left. Everyone is loudly chuckling, and Troy grins, "Yeah, that faggot's going to regret being alive during the next few weeks."

Suddenly no one is laughing, and he turns around to see a flushed-faced Ryan, his eyes bloodshot and his body trembling so badly that Troy can see easily. He feels his ears turn bright red and he's about to apologize when Ryan just walks by, sits at the desk in the back, and lays his head down, and he doesn't look up the rest of the class.

Troy feels like he can't breathe.

And later that Monday night, he's over at Gabriella's house, and she suddenly sits him on her bed and gets on her knees. She sucks him off, his fingers are tangled in her hair, and all he thinks about for that entire five minutes is Ryan. He imagines blond hair. He imagines Ryan doing this, experienced at it and not being sloppy like his girlfriend. He can see in his mind Ryan being equally hard, and his hand - the one that isn't around the base of Troy - jerking himself off. When Troy comes in Gabriella's mouth, he bites his lip so doesn't scream Ryan's name.

He never liked Mondays.

* * *

It's the last day of school. He hasn't talked with Ryan since the prom. And things haven't been good with Gabriella since that spring. So after three o'clock that Friday, they're walking home, Gabriella's talking about being seniors next year, and he stops. 

"I have to talk with you," he says slowly, glancing off to the street. Carefully he removes his hand from her grip, and he shakes his head. "Gab," he starts softly, trying to look in her eyes but, he can't bring himself to stare at her puzzled gaze. "I don't think this is working out anymore. I'm sorry."

When he gets home, his cheek is still stinging, and he puts on his music so he can't hear her screaming in the confines of his head. He feels terrible, but more relieved than he's felt in months. It got a little easier that day. No more school. No more girlfriend.

He lies back in his bed, slides off his jeans, licks his palm, and grabs a hold on himself, like he does almost every day. He slides his hand up and down, jerks himself, squeezes and tenses before he finally feels his back arching and body convulsing. Ryan's name falls from his lips, as an experiment, and Troy thinks vaguely that nothing has ever sounded so natural.

* * *

One week into vacation when Troy starts his summer job as a local camp counselor. He's always liked kids in general, and he needs more money to buy the car he's had his eye on. At eight in the morning, he arrives with a grin on his face and a positive attitude, but when he sees who his co-worker is, it all falters. 

"Troy," Ryan nods at him politely before going back to talk to the main leader, Annie. And Troy just stands there, in a little bit of shock, and he wishes he'd never agreed to this. Who needs a car anyway?

At initiation, Annie reads off which counselors will be working with one another. "Each group has eight kids, four per counselor. The groups will be as follows: one, Bryan Crest and Cody Nekia. Two, Daphne Peters and Joseph Radfort. Three, Troy Bolton and Ryan Evans."

He stops listening after that because all he can comprehend is that he and Ryan will be working together for three months. He glances over at the blond, and their eyes meet for all of three seconds. But in that quick amount of time, he can see Ryan's misery and doubt. Troy doesn't blame him at all.

In a split second, Troy makes a decision that when Ryan looks at him by the end of the summer, he won't remember Troy calling him a faggot. And maybe by the end of the summer...

Well, he doesn't want to jinx it.

* * *

Troy hates kids. Hates them. They're a nuisance worth being shipped off to an island where they learn manners and don't come back until they're at least twelve. He hopes he wasn't this aggravating when he was younger. 

He hates this job, too. Not only because of the children, but because of Ryan, who is completely content ignoring him. They only converse when it's absolutely necessary ("Could you pass the crayons?" "What should we do today?" "Stop saying you're sorry, and go help Michael.").

It's driving him insane, and it's unhealthy to be this miserable over a silly, gorgeous, all-around perfect boy. Sometimes his father asks if he's still wanting Gabriella, but he tells him no, this problem doesn't relate to a girl. _It relates to a boy, though_, he thinks but will never say aloud.

Part of him thinks the brats know. He realizes it's completely irrational, but occasionally, when they're in the middle of something, a kid will do something. Once, they were coloring and a little girl named Debbie said, "Look at my picture. It's you and Ryan in the park!" Troy asked her to draw something else, please. Another time, they were crossing the street to go to the swimming pool, and an eight-year-old called Justin said, "You and Ryan should hold hands, too."

It's definitely unhealthy to be this paranoid.

Toward the end of June, Troy snaps.

He and Ryan are putting away the puzzles after all the kids have gone home, and that's when he tries to apologize again. He starts off, "Listen, dude, all those things I said last May? I was just bullshitting around, you know I didn't--"

And Ryan puts up his hand, not looking him in the eye. He says, "Don't worry about it. It's not like you're the first one to be grossed out by me and my so-called sins. Even though I didn't expect it from you, I've forgotten about it, and you should too. I'm used to homophobia."

And in about four seconds, Troy grabs the boy by the shoulders and pushes him against the nearest wall. They're pressed up against each other, Ryan wedged between the plaster and Troy's torso with almost no room in between. Their faces are inches apart, and he thinks that Ryan smells sweetly of sunshine and oranges. While he wants to kiss him, he doesn't. He can't.

Instead he says, "I'm not homophobic. I wasn't disgusted by you and your boyfriend--" He ignores Ryan's protest of 'he wasn't my boyfriend, and I don't think you saw the whole thing' "--and I don't care. At all. I don't think they're sins, Ry. And um...I can't forget it. I have to make it up to you. Meet me somewhere and we can...talk."

They decide to discuss a few things on the fourth of July.

* * *

The park is crowded and full of the whole town. Troy sees everyone and no one, and he goes to find Ryan. When he locates him, Troy thinks that they shouldn't have met in public. The blond is in a red muscle shirt, too-tight jeans, and his hair is not shrouded by a ridiculous hat and oh dear God, he's absolutely beautiful. 

Suddenly Sharpay is there, hugging him and pressing her chest against his, and he glances over her head to see Gabriella standing there too, arms crossed and in an outfit that he thinks is supposed to be sexy, but all it strikes him as is slutty. Ryan catches Troy's eye, and he mouths the word, "Sorry." Troy shrugs because what else can he do?

So they're all sitting on a blanket to keep away the itchy grass, Gabriella on his right and Ryan on his left. They're getting along, sure, but Troy is terribly disappointed. Why he should be disappointed, he wonders, but he can't fight his feelings.

The fireworks should be going off at exactly 9:25, and at 9:23, Ryan places his hand on Troy's briefly and stands up. "I'm going to the bathroom," he says slowly, as though making sure Sharpay and Gabriella hear. Sharpay says something about missing the beginning of the fireworks, but Troy jumps to his feet and nods.

"Too much water, I can't hold my bladder either."

The two boys walk off, past the cubicles, past the situated crowd, and to the bridge where they once were once ago when everything was so hard. It isn't much easier now, but he thinks it's better.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think Sharpay was going to come with me. And I certainly didn't think Gabriella would come with her," Ryan says, leaning back against the side of the bridge, and he looks like a model. Troy never noticed his toned stomach before. Or the way his leg muscles strain against the denim. Or the fact that Ryan's mouth looks like candy; sweet, rich, begging to be licked and sucked and bitten.

Unintentionally, Troy takes a step forward. They're only about two feet apart. "It's okay," he mutters, internally telling himself to stop staring god damnit, could he be more obvious? "I guess there wasn't much to say, really. I mean, I wanted to get to know you better... and let you know how sorry I still I am. I'm really not homophobic. I really like you. I'm not revolted by any of that stuff."

There's a spark in Ryan's eyes that undeniable, and the other boy says lowly, "That's good. I really, _really _like you, too. As a friend." Troy takes another step forward, and there's only about a foot of distance between them. "There's always more time to get to know each other. After all, we'll be working together for the next two months until school starts..."

His voice has dropped another octave, and like a magnet, Troy is drawn to it. They're only a good six inches away from each other now, and his hands are also on the railing, trapping Ryan between them. His heartbeat speeds up as he carefully rests his body against the other boy. There's that addictive aroma of tangerines again, but no sunshine. It's cool and dark and lusty.

"That works," he mumbles, his face still coming closer to Ryan's. _So close. _"I'm scared," he murmurs and Ryan asks why in a questioning tone. Even though it's about ninety degrees outside, Troy shivers as a hand starts running up his forearm to his neck, playing with a the wisps in the back. His own hands move slightly so they're resting on Ryan's hips, and his grip instantly tightens.

"Because..." Their lips are so close; he can practically feel the dawning kiss already. It's his first kiss with another boy, and he can't believe it's going to be with Ryan. He's been waiting since spring. The two things he didn't have before were a so-called normal sexual orientation and the other being _Ryan Fucking Beautiful Evans_. He thinks he might not need the foremost anymore. "Because I don't know if this is right."

Ryan smirks, his other palm coming to rest on the small of Troy's back. "Why don't you try and then you'll know?" he suggests without any hesitation. Troy searches the blonde's face for any sign of spite or conspiracy (what if there's a camera lurking around just to get him back at calling Ryan a faggot?); however, all he sees in reassurance and pure hope.

"Troy," he whispers, and that's all it takes. He leans down just an inch or two, and they're kissing. He remembers when Ryan and the other boy were making out in the bathroom, and that was passionate and needy. This is a simple, exploring kiss that goes nowhere. Just a touch of lips and a swipe of a tongue and they're done.

Three seconds later the fireworks begin.

Troy thinks that things couldn't be more perfect.

* * *

If having Gabriella as a girlfriend was difficult, having Ryan as a boyfriend is mission impossible. At least when he couldn't get enough of Gabriella, they could go to the mall and her house and just _be _with her. He didn't have to worry. With Ryan, he's constantly on pins and needles, wondering if people can tell he's dating another guy. The feeling of wanting to be with this person all the time is still there, except he can't do anything about it. They can't go to the mall and hold hands. They can't go to the movies and make out. They find secluded times during the evening when no one is around, which is a rare occasion. 

When it all becomes too much, Troy takes a risk and asks his mom if Ryan can spend the night. He doesn't bat an eye when she asks why, and he says that they've become good friends in the last month. Eventually she tells him to ask his father. When he does, Jack frowns and says, "Isn't that boy a flamer, son?"

Troy wants to hit his dad, but he just shakes his head and clenches his fists at his side. "No. He has a hot girlfriend. Please, Dad. We're friends now."

Ryan is spending the night.

* * *

"I can't believe you said I had a hot girlfriend!" Ryan laughs, chucking a pillow at his head. Troy ducks and lets it hit the wall. They're grinning at one another as they sit on his bed when Troy gets on his hands and knees and crawls over to the blond. He lays Ryan bac121fv k against the bedspread before he drapes his body over him. They stop laughing, but they're still smiling, and Ryan's looking at him with a mixture of lust and nerves. 

"I guess you were half right," he murmurs with a wink. "I have a hot _someone_. But do me and you a favor and never call yourself a girl again, okay?"

Troy captures Ryan's mouth with his own, and the only sound in the room for a good five minutes is the sound of wet, gentle smacking and uneven breathing. Ryan nips at his lips and then suddenly rolls Tory over so now that he, Ryan, is on top and beginning to trail kisses down the athlete's neck.

He's embarrassingly hard and he knows there's no chance in hell for Ryan to not have noticed. He's correct too, because when Ryan starts shifting further down his body, the other boy suddenly tenses and grins up at him. "I see someone has a prob-lem," he teases, his hands finding their way under Troy's shirt and running his hands softly back and forth.

"Shut up," Troy groans, taking a pillow and smothering his face with it. Through the feathered mass, he says, "I'm sorry. That wasn't supposed to happen."

Out of no where there's a hand pressing against his crotch and slowly Troy removes the pillow, question written all over his face. His hopes are too great; this can't be leading to where he thinks it might. "What are you doing?" His voice is breathless.

Ryan grins. "Troy Bolton, I know you're not that stupid." As he starts undoing the brunette's jeans, he looks deeply into Troy, and for an instant, he feels naked to the core and Ryan can see it all. It scares him to death; Ryan must notice. "Or if you don't want me to, I completely understand..."

"No, no," Troy shakes his head and then grabs Ryan under the armpits, dragging him up to kiss him again softly. "I want you to do it," he mutters against soft lips. He wraps his arms around Ryan's neck and he says, "But not with your mouth. Not yet. I need you up here."

A quick rustling of clothes and a run to lock the door, both boys are shirtless, Troy's jeans are flung across the rooms, and Ryan is on top of him again, his fingers toying with the waistband of his boxers. "If you need me to stop, I will," he says, but Troy knows that the day he refuses this from someone like Ryan, the world will be ending.

When his boxers are at his ankles, Troy shivers from the air-conditioned chill and the intensity of Ryan's gaze. As a firm but careful hand wraps around his cock, he lets out a low, pathetic whine that makes him blush. "Fuck, I don't think... _God_..." Already Ryan is slowly moving his hand back and forth, gently jerking him every other second. All the blood in his body flows to his dick with a surge of heat and lust.

"You've never done this with a boy, have you?" Ryan doesn't really ask, but just states a fact. Troy shakes his head no; no, he's never done this with a boy, obviously not with Ryan, and _shit _he should've started years ago. His eyes roll back in his head, and his toes curl at each sensation Ryan gives him.

It only takes a minute - if that - for Troy to feel his climax to build up in his groin and to come over Ryan's fingers. Quietly Ryan's name leaves his lips like he imagined, and he thinks it couldn't be much better.

He lays there for what feels like an eternity, his heart beating out of his chest. Only when Ryan begins to giggle does he open his eyes with a sedated smile. "What's so funny?"

"I think I'm going to need to borrow some of your pants. That was _hot_."

* * *

There are days when Troy wonders where this relationship with Ryan is going. Sometimes he's so furious at him that he comes close to calling it quits. They bicker, they scream, and they once had a full-fledged fight in Ryan's bedroom. It was never like this with Gabriella or any of his other girlfriends in the past. 

But then there are the other days, the good ones. The days where Ryan just grins at him and Troy is a puddle on the floor. The days when Ryan will sneak up behind him before camp starts and wrap his arms around Troy, and they stand there for ten minutes, reveling in each other. Their relationship is not based around sexual activity, which means that they're with each other because they actually _like _one another.

When Ryan kisses him, Troy feels the world melt away.

It may not have been like this with any other girlfriend, but Troy considers that a good thing.

* * *

"What are we going to do when school starts?" Troy asks exactly four weeks before September first, the first day of senior year. It's been on his mind, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't worried about it. 

Ryan is currently lying on his stomach next to his pool as Troy swims around. His eyes are closed, but Troy sees them twitch. "What do you mean?" he asks lazily, clearly relaxed by the beating sunrays.

An idea hitting him, Troy lifts himself out of the pool and flops on Ryan's warm back. The blond squeals and rolls off his stomach, so their faces are inches apart. "First of all, you're freezing, get off me," Ryan laughs, but Troy just shakes his head, sending drops of water all over him. "Second of all, you might _really _want to get off me. Sharpay or someone might see."

Troy takes a deep breath and runs his finger down Ryan's face. He still can't quite believe this is his life, this is his boyfriend; this his choice and he's going to make it. "What if..." he starts, uncertainty on the tip of his tongue. "WhatifIdon'tcareifpeoplesee?"

"Excuse me?" Ryan's confused, and Troy can't blame him.

"I said, what if I don't care--"

"No, no. I heard what you said. I just don't..." For a moment, if Troy didn't know any better, it looks as though Ryan is about to cry. A hand suddenly entwines with his. "You're serious?" he asks, disbelief written all over his face.

Troy nods. "Yeah, I am. I don't care what people think. It's my senior year, and I have the right to be as happy as I can be. And if I just so happen to be happy because of you, who cares?"

"People are going to care, Troy," Ryan whispers, giving his hand another squeeze gently. "It's okay if we don't. We can just pretend to be best friends and..."

With his free hand, Troy covers his mouth. He can feel Ryan grin under it. "Fuck the people. If they have a problem, they can shove it where the sun doesn't shine. I'm _breaking free _from the expectations."

Ryan starts running his hands up and down Troy's chest, when abruptly Ryan heaves him up to the right and sends him straight back into the pool. A few seconds later, Troy comes up sputtering and face-to-face with a smug grin.

"You're corny."

"I try." Troy rolls his eyes.

"Do you want to come to my lake house with me next weekend?"

* * *

Even someone as gossip-ridden as Sharpay doesn't ask when Troy shows up early Saturday morning with a duffel bag, ready to drive with Ryan two hours to his lake. She smiles at him, offers him some coffee, and tells him that Ryan accidentally overslept and he'd be down in a few minutes. He's surprised, but pleasantly so that she's not going to pry. 

So he's sitting there sipping the cinnamon-mocha-flavored drink when suddenly Sharpay says, "You treat him good. He deserves it."

Troy looks at her questionably, already feeling his cheeks heat up. "Um, I beg your pardon?"

Sharpay approaches him and places her hands on his shoulders. She looks him dead in the eye, more serious than Troy's ever seen her. "Ryan," she hesitates for the right words. "Ryan, he's been hurt before by people like you. Guys like you who I know _do _care about him, but then comes the world and they give up because it's too...hard. They're weak and it breaks Ryan's heart every time. And I know... I know he cares so much about you, probably more than he should. Don't quit on him, Troy. Don't you even dare. You might be one heartbreak too many."

He's still taking in everything she's said when Ryan comes bounding down the stairs two-by-two. Troy tries smiles at him and gets up to kiss him softly. It's the first time they've ever done it in front of anyone before, and it shakes him even more. Sharpay doesn't seem phased by it at all; rather, she just hugs Ryan and says, "Have fun, boys!"

Before they leave, Troy hugs her also, and this time she doesn't push any parts of herself against him. His grip tightens and he whispers, "You don't need to worry. I would never hurt him. He... He means the world to me."

He's scared out of his mind. It's the first time he's ever considered just how important Ryan is to him and its hit him like a ton of bricks. The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes he might be falling in love.

When they walk out the door holding hands, Sharpay suddenly yells, "Don't forget to wear condoms! We don't need a Bolton-Evans baby in the world any time soon!"

Troy doesn't hate Sharpay anymore.

* * *

(note: some of you may be upset with me here. I got slightly lazy) 

The house is absolutely beautiful. Both Troy and Ryan decide to share the master bedroom because they've shared a bed before, and it would be weird to spend the night in separate rooms. As they set their bags down on the floor, Troy notices how neither of them take their eyes off of each other. The weather might be hot, but he doesn't think it's the sun that's making the atmosphere so intensely stuffy.

"Well..." Ryan smiles shyly at him as he approaches. They wrap their arms around each other slowly, and Troy's hands start playing with the hem of Ryan's t-shirt. When Ryan shudders, he quickly removes the shirt, and then his own.

"We could go swimming," he says with a strained voice while Troy lowers him to the bed and starts to undo his jeans. Troy grins and shakes his head. "We could... we could take the boat out," he practically squeaks as his jeans and boxers are pulled off and tossed aside. Troy pushes off his khaki shorts but not his underwear before he languidly crawls on top of Ryan's burning skin.

Ryan moans quietly as Troy wraps his hand around his decently hard arousal. "Or we could do this," he gasps out with a deep, overwhelmed groan that follows.

That morning is nothing like Troy has ever experienced before. He and Ryan are both virgins, so every move they make is awkward and clumsy. He's not all that surprised when he's asked to be inside Ryan, but he can't stop trembling and asking if Ryan's okay. He always is, but Troy is so afraid of hurting him.

So he enters the blond, and he's surrounded by tight velvet that's absolutely glorious. Both teenage boys are inexperienced and neither hold out longer than about a minute or two. When Troy comes within Ryan, everything turns white and blinding, and when he comes back to earth, he's deliriously elated.

Carefully he removes himself and lies down on the comforter while Ryan curls up next to him, his head buried in Troy's shoulder. "Troy?" Ryan mumbles, hugging him tight.

"Hmm?"

"I lo… thank you."

"No, I thank you."

_You've changed my life for better.

* * *

_

Summer is over. The job is done and Troy now has enough money for the car he wants. Basketball training will start soon. In a few months he has to send out applications for colleges. He has his school supplies and a ride for the first day. He plans on trying out for the fall musical, _Fiddler on the Roof_, where he's sure he'll be paired with either Gabriella or Sharpay. And people will continue to think he is a lucky bastard who has everything.

They'd be right.

The morning of September first, he waits outside his house for Ryan and Sharpay. He won't have his car for another week or so. When the silver lexis pulls up in front of his house, he gets in the back with Ryan and kisses him gently.

"You ready for this?" Ryan asks as he tangles their fingers together.

More than he'll never be again.

They arrive to school. People swarm him. He and Ryan don't hold hands yet because it's going to be a gradual thing. Troy catches up with Chad who's been in New York all summer. He makes small talk with Gabriella because it's the polite thing to do. He meets up with his teammates and friends, and this is probably the only time he's ever been happy back at school.

During first period homeroom, he and a couple of guys are talking when Chad boasts, "Dude, I met this brunette first week there… Man, she was hot. She wanted me so bad… she was always either on her back or her knees."

All the guys laugh and high-five him while Troy uneasily chuckles, his eyes darting to the clock. There's still a good fifteen minutes left of the class. He hopes no one asks him about…

"What about you, Bolton?" Jason smirks as though he knows something is up. Troy swallows thickly. "You nail any girls this summer?"

Troy wants to run out of the room. "Um…" _I 'nailed' Ryan Evans, I 'nailed' Ryan Evans_… "Yeah, this one chick, her name was…Ronda. She was sexy as hell. I met her at camp and she was all over me. Always wearing short skirts and bending over so I could see her ass… She was wild."

Someone behind him coughs, and his heart sinks when he turns around. Sharpay is standing behind him, hands on her hips, her eyes full of vehemence "I would appreciate it," she growls, eyes narrowing on Troy's face, "if you didn't talk about the girls you nailed this summer, Troy. No one wants to hear about you fooling around with someone you clearly don't care about."

Troy's eyes widen, and he knows he can't say much in front of all the guys, but he argues, "Who says I didn't care about her?"

She crouches down, and he's scared for his life because he can actually feel tiny fury waves radiating off of her. She says lowly, "I recall that a month ago I told you that the world will come and most get scared and run. You told me that you would stand strong. If you ask me, I'd say that you're quitting, asshole."

He doesn't want to admit she's right, but he knows that she is.

* * *

"I can't do it, Ryan," Troy miserably tells him after school that day. "I'm not ready to come out." 

"I know," Ryan nods and half-smiles.

They leave it at that.

* * *

The month of September comes and goes; between homework, conditioning, and school, Troy has little time to do anything with Ryan. It sucks, sure, but there's nothing they can do about it. They try when they can, even if it ends up only being for about an hour doing something pointless. Because at least he makes sure he kisses Ryan at least once a day. 

Early October is when the audition sign-ups get posted on the bulletin board. Both of them sign up. Neither care who gets the main part and Troy likes how it's not all competition in their relationship.

Ryan, Troy, Gabriella, and Sharpay all audition on the same day, and while Ryan does good, Tory excels and everyone knows it. Gabriella's voice cracks about five times, and Sharpay does excellent. When the cast sheet goes up, there are no call-backs. Troy has the lead, Sharpay plays his wife, and Gabriella is their daughter. Ryan plays the part of the boy who wins over Gabriella.

On the bright side, they'll be able to spend much more time together.

* * *

For as much time they spent together during the summer, Troy rarely heard Ryan sing. So he is momentarily thrown off guard when Ryan starts to sing somewhere into the first few weeks of practice. His voice is clear and strong; it's controlled, unlike Troy's amateur one. He stands off to the side in awe, and when Ryan stops, he doesn't hold back his applause. 

Ryan looks at him and grins, but somehow it doesn't reach his eyes. Troy feels a sense of dread in the pit of his stomach.

Troy waits around, even after his scenes are finished, until Ryan done. He pulls the blond into the nearest empty room – the janitor closet – and firmly shuts the door. "Ryan…" he starts.

The other boy holds up his hand, cutting him off. "It's okay, Troy. I know you and I… it's complicated. I know you've never had to deal with hiding a relationship. And I know you've never had a boyfriend. I knew going into this that I was probably your experiment, and I'm okay with that, really I am…"

He wonders if his eyes are as big as basketballs. "Wait, wait!" he cries, grabbing a hold of Ryan's shoulders. He stops talking and looks at Troy questionably. "Did you…" He stumbles on his words as he's completely thrown off the edge of the earth. "Did you think I was going to break up with you or something?"

"Well, yeah. You've been avoiding me lately. And one tends to think that when his boyfriend ignores him, he's going to be broken up with, see."

Troy pushes Ryan up against the wall gently, and then he kisses him tenderly. "No, silly. I'm not breaking up with you." He kisses him again. "I was going to ask you what was wrong. You seem…tense. Or distracted."

"No, just worried about you." By searching Ryan's face, Troy is not sure if he's telling the truth, but he doesn't press it.

He makes the most of their time, though.

* * *

Troy finds out what's been on Ryan's mind sometime in the beginning of September. He hates himself for not figuring it out sooner. 

It's a good few hours after school has ended, but Troy had detention. He's heading to his car when he hears something out of the ordinary. He can't place it, exactly, but he follows the sound. The closer he gets, the more he realizes they're grunts. He's about to turn around and walk back when he hears a sob. The alarm bells go off.

He rounds a corner into a courtyard and he sees Ryan, Chad, and an underclassman. Ryan is pinned up against the wall while the other two are taking turns punching him in the gut. It takes all of two seconds for Troy to react.

"What the fuck? Get off him!" he yells, sprinting as quickly as he can over to them. He reaches the underclassman first and punches him as hard as he can in the face. The guy falls down, and he turns to Chad, who's staring at him in surprise.

"Dude, what do you think you're doing?" Troy demands, shoving him in the chest. The world, it seems, has turned a deep scarlet. He doesn't think he's ever been more furious, and his throbbing right hand is still curled into a fist with a mind of its own, itching to make Chad feel any sense of regret.

It seems to snap his old best friend out a daze, and he quickly pushes back with the same amount of intensity. "What am I doing? What are _you_ doing? I'm teaching this, this… _faggot _a lesson –"

"And what lesson is that, Chad?" His hand is twitching and his voice an unrecognizable low. "That you are a closed-minded, insecure asshole who using his strength to _prove _your sexuality?"

"Troy, what the hell has gotten into you? You're acting like you actually like this _faggo_-- "

His friend can't finish his demeaning word because he's on his back, his eyes wide, and Troy stands over him with a blank face and fist raised. Chad lays there for a moment, and Troy wonders if maybe he sent him into unconsciousness.

However, after a moment, Chad scrambles to his feet and glares at him. "You shouldn't have done that."

As he walks away, Troy gives him the finger and turns to check on Ryan. The blond is nowhere to be found.

* * *

"Why didn't you tell me you were being harassed?" 

"I didn't think it was important."

"How could you think that? What if they had ended up seriously injuring you?"

"It wouldn't matter."

"Of course it would! Why are you acting like this?"

"Acting like what? Acting like I don't care? Well, I guess you would know about that, wouldn't you, Troy?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Obviously I care about you and your well-being."

"Compared to your friends, I'm nothing and you know it."

"Did you not see me punch Chad in the face?"

"Yeah, but…"

"What is it, Ryan? Do you want to be mad at me or something?"

"I just… I can't do it anymore, Troy. I thought it would be okay if I was your lover-boy experiment, but this hurts too much."

"…What? You're breaking up with me?"

"I have to do it before you do it to me. I lo… I wouldn't be able to handle it. It was bound to happen soon anyway. You go and be happy with Gabriella and your narrow-minded friends and be the perfect guy you are."

"This isn't happening."

"I can't lie anymore. I don't want you to, either. Goodbye, Troy."

A click, then a dial tone. It's all over: the phone call, the relationship, and maybe his life, too; at the very least, his happiness.

* * *

No one notices a difference in Troy. He comes to school everyday looking refreshed and bright. There's an ever-present smile on his face. His clothes are neatly situated on his body, his hair combed, his shoes tied. There are no deep, emotional songs written. He doesn't slice open his skin or turn gothic. To his peers, he is the same Troy Bolton he's always been. 

Inside, however, Troy is anything but normal. He thinks it would feel better to let it all out and be stereotypically heartbroken, but he can't bring himself to even cry, much less go turn into another person. Ever since the phone call that Friday, he has felt nothing but numbness and the occasional hunger pain. He refuses to let himself feel. Because if he does, he'll be facing the fact that he fell in too deep and let himself get hurt.

He rarely sees Ryan in the hallways. When they do pass, he makes sure to glance at his shoes or to the side. The unshed tears always threaten the back of his eyes. At _Fiddler _practice, he's glad that they never practice his and Ryan's scenes. He can pretend with other people to be Tevye, but he's not sure how much he could imagine Ryan as someone other than his ex-boyfriend.

Why isn't it like this with Gabriella?

He was in a longer, open connection with her. They had everyone gaping at their relationship. She was his first real sexual experience, and he would always remember that. So how come he could still speak with her? It was terribly easy to pick up a conversation, and he certainly never came close to crying when he looked at her.

He can't figure it out.

Psychology was never his strong point.

* * *

"Troy, come over here. We're at the scene where you and Ryan are discussing wealth when you first meet." 

Cautiously, Troy approaches Mrs. Darbus and Ryan, choosing not to glance up from his enthralling fingernails. Judging by her face, she is clearly annoyed by his lack of interest. She shoves the script in her hands, points to a line, and snaps, "Here."

Briefly he looks at Ryan before they start. Their eyes meet for probably the first time in weeks, and he feels such a wave of heartache that he thinks he will either fall over or vomit. Ryan attempts to smile, but Troy just sees pain and a wince.

They start reading their lines. Troy doesn't pay much attention because he's too distracted by Ryan's honeyed voice in his ear after so long. He knows the drama teacher stops them a few times, telling them to be more in character, but he blows her off.

Finally, he begins to pay attention. He hears Ryan hesitate, and he looks up again. When their eyes lock, no one moves away and the blond doesn't even have to look down at the script. "In the world," he slowly says, "it is the wealthy who are criminals. Someday… someday their wealth will be _ours_."

Troy thinks that maybe Perchick, Ryan's character, is talking about physical money, but from the spark in Ryan's expression, he thinks the meaning might be deeper. His heart swells to the point of bursting, until Mrs. Darbus yells, "Bolton, read!"

He jumps a little and breaks their contact. "That would be nice," he mumbles, feeling lower than ever before. Perhaps he's contemplating it too much, but this all seems awfully ironic and horribly heartbreaking. "If they would agree…" he momentarily loses his voice. "If they would agree, I would agree."

The two boys stand there awkwardly staring, until finally Mrs. Darbus suddenly shouts, "Both of you need to put on more chemistry together! Work on it!"

_That's the last thing we need_, Troy miserably muses as he watches Ryan walk of stage, head bowed.

* * *

It's like this for the next two months. 

They never speak unless they're in character. Even though they've improved since their mumbling, it's still difficult to look Ryan in the eyes. He's an actor though, so no one sees his anxiety or aching heart. Either Ryan is a superb actor, or he doesn't care anymore. Troy wishes he had the same luxury.

Suddenly after a hundred or a thousand practices that have surpassed well after seven at night, it's opening weekend. That Friday, the school is an anticipating bundle of energy, and it gets on his every last nerve. He's already fighting the urge to quit, so he certainly doesn't need the added pressure of "do Tevye proud, Mr. Bolton!" from Mrs. Darbus or "Don't freeze up!" from teasing guys.

By the time the bell rings, he is a nervous wreck.

He can only go home for about an hour to relax until he has to be back up at the school to start the transformation into Tevye. The second he gets into his room, Troy flings himself onto his bed and tries not to start crying.

It's not like he's nervous about the play. He knows his lines backwards and forward, and he knows that he sounds superb in his songs. The play in all reality is the least of his worries.

"Shit," he mumbles into his pillow, hugging it close to his chest. Maybe if he held it tight enough he would suffocate and it would all be over. Maybe he should go to the bridge where Ryan had touched his hand almost a year ago, and he could jump into the icy water. Or he could just lock himself in his room for the rest of his life. Every idea sounds appealing.

It wouldn't heal the constant ache inside, though. Even in death he would feel the emptiness – how, he wasn't sure, but he knew.

There's a light knock on his door. Troy ignores it because why should he answer? Did he not just specifically tell his parents not to interrupt him for the next hour? He continues to shallowly breathe, and internally groans when he hears the door creak open with invitation.

"Honey?" Troy wants to scream. He does not want and/or require a speech from his therapist of a mom.

"I'm trying to rest," he says through clenched teeth. Maybe it's the pillow or his growl, but she doesn't seem to hear him. Troy notices that she never likes to hear a polite 'go away.'

Instead she sits down on his bed and places her hand on his back, starting to scratch his back soothingly with her nails. Ever since he was young, his mother scratching his back has always put him at rest. He smiles into the pillow.

She's silent for a while, and he's surprised that she hasn't jumped into anything. When she does talk, it's not advice or with her psychiatrist voice. "How come Ryan doesn't come around anymore?"

Troy tenses up for a moment before he realizes she can feel, so he does his best to loosen up. "We, um…" he hesitates, not about to tell her about their break up. "Er, we just drifted apart. We both had… Our ideas were… He wanted to… It just didn't work."

"Oh. That's a shame. He was good for you. I wouldn't let someone like that slip through your fingers." And that's all she says.

His mother gets up and leaves, while Troy is left laying there in shock. A thousand questions are running through his mind. Does she know?

Eventually he manages to get out of bed and head down to the kitchen to grab some food to bring with him. Before he leaves, he goes over to his mom – who is doing dishes – and kisses her on the cheek.

"Thank you."

* * *

_I've been thinking about it, and I think you should take me back._

It was simple enough inside his head. Each detail up to the very second was planned out. He would arrive there, drag Ryan to the nearest deserted room, tell him this, and then kiss him fervently and it would work.

Nothing is ever like someone plans it.

Instead, he gets to the school and the second he walks through the doors, he sees Ryan leaning against the wall. There is another boy with dark hair and devastating blue eyes who's practically on him; they're not kissing, they're not even touching, but their grins and mischievous glances tell everything.

Troy runs to the bathroom, where he stares in the mirror for five minutes. He counts how many tears come down his face as the reality sets in. One, two, five, twelve, twenty. At this very moment, Troy hates himself.

And just like luck would have it, Ryan walks in as he's rinsing off his face. Through the reflection, they kind of stare at each other, and Troy sees Ryan's lips form a perfect 'o.'

When he turns around, it all stumbles out.

"You made a mistake, Ryan. I've always cared about you. I cared about you before Gabriella. I cared about you before I even knew you. When I figured out that I was attracted to guys, do you know who led me to the conclusion? You. I realized that I liked _you_. And when I thought we were happy and together, you give up on me. Our schedules conflict and we have to keep us a secret, but you say the word and I'll be there. You want to come out? I'll do it. Want me to quit basketball? Sure. I'll never speak to Gabriella again. I can't… I still… _Fuck, I love you okay?_"

* * *

"The world is changing."

* * *

"As the good book says 'Each shall seek his own kind'. In other words a bird may love a fish but where would they build a home together?"

* * *

"Love, it's a new starting. On the other hand, our old ways were once new, weren't they? On the other hand, they decided without parents, without the matchmaker. On the other hand, did Adam and Eve have a matchmaker? Oh, yes they did. And it seems these two have the same Matchmaker."

* * *

From the cheering audience, Troy's mom sits in third row, her camcorder directed center stage. She's already on her feet, hollering for her son, her pride and joy. She wants to get the look of his face when he walks back on for his bow. 

In order of least importance to lead roles, the cast goes out to take their bows. The extras and people will no names go out first.

Then are the people with semi-important roles, such as the butcher or Rabbi.

The children of Tevye go out next. The audience is slowly beginning to stand up by now.

Crucial parts come out. Mrs. Bolton grins at the blond boy she'd become so fond of over the summer. She's missed that goofy grin of Ryan's.

Finally Tevye and his wife, Golde take the stage. Everyone is on their feet screaming and clapping. The husband and wife, Troy and Sharpay, smile dazzlingly and bow in perfect coordination. They truly were spectacular.

Everyone on stage now forms a messy line, and she notices that Ryan pushes forward to stand next to her son. Right away she sees that the boys' hands are entangled together, while Troy's other hand is casually in Sharpay's.

The cast do an awkward bow together. And as soon as they're done, she watches as Troy places his arms around Ryan's waist, brings him close, and kisses him gently on the lips.

She hears the roar of the crowd die down fairly quickly, but the boys on stage don't seem to mind a bit the reaction to their public display of affection. When the two pull away, they stare at each other blissfully, as though unaware of the world around them. She smiles.

"Good job, honey."

* * *

A year ago, Troy was miserable. Truthfully, he was miserable up until only four hours ago. But now he can truly say he has everything he needs. Everyone can tell that he has everything important – Ryan and family – and nothing meaningless. 

After the highs and lows, everything went according to plan.

Troy Bolton is a lucky bastard.

-END-


End file.
